In the gentling morning

The cherry blossoms bloom earlier each year
As if the efflorescence bright as the wind
Were not a fixéd point in history
But brief, new burgeoned summer
That burnt our shadows into the bitumen 
Mistaking prayer for a boxer’s curled up fists
The bell ringing out
The hollowed temple of the skull 
Marble blacked and cavern eyed
Emptied of all but desperate, whorling signs
In concrete, a mocking, splayed-tooth smile
Still, we only require paper walls
The ink so thin as to be, almost invisible
Except in the slaloming golden light
Of a lantern’s flinting shadow
Gaining purchase
In the intaglio
The way that desperate fingernails
Hold, and hold and hold and slip
We only need through morning’s paper walls
A slower, gentling sun
To read this warning over and over